


The Final Meeting // Global Cooling Future

by Phoenixgriffin260



Series: WoF AU Futures [1]
Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Fantribes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: Cross-posted from tumblr.(Are you dangerous?with your measure of proofthoughts are slivers of goldabscond with the truth)A drabble wherein secrets are revealed, and a few queens die.(how does it feelto be your own deceiver?signals raisedthen lost to the aetheR)





	1. Tribe Information

Sleetwings, the hybridised tribe between icewings and mudwings, harbor thick jaws and heavy, but thin, teeth, perfect for hunting things bigger than them. Talons are serrated, for climbing the ice that forms in sheets. Blood oozes in sticky, violet droplets, a mix between the blue and the red. Front legs are muscular, fingers taking after the icewings, as do the horns (albeit the horns are smaller, ever so slightly curving up at the tip). Scales are often very light tan or a very light purple. They have a weaker form of icebreath.

The Sleetwing Queen, Queen Slush, has too many scars, thobbing violet. She bleeds every step she takes. The other Queens wait.

 

Skywings, now Snowywings, are smaller than the Skywings before them, due to breeding with nightwings for a few generations. A pelt of warm, muffling feathers coat their wings and back, while their bellies are scaled in neon blues. The silvery specks known to nightwings have carried on to the Snowywings, only now the lone scales are shades of black. They are built bulky, more like puffins than penguins.

The Snowywing Queen, Queen Owl, is mute. She says nothing in meetings, only glossing over the notes printed. She can hear every breath you take. Don’t spread rumours.

 

The Seawings ,now Polarwings, lost flight, instead deciding to live entirely underwater, away from conflict. Blubber built up under their scales, talons sharpening to harpoon hooks. Barbels grow and multiply, giving them almost supernatural senses. The animus gene runs deep, dappling the Polarwings in extra colours if they have it. Tail widened, back legs melding into it.

The Polarwing Queen, Queen Siren, confuses the other Queens. Nobody knows where she came from. Nobody knows what she does. What does she do?

 

The Hivewings, now Permawings, after killing Rainwings and Silkwings, escaped to the warmth, becoming thinner and longer. Horns and spines were lost, mandibles growing inside of the mouth, able to extend. Claws became shovel like, to help with the building of underground hives. They became segregated. Drones, smallest and light coloured, with no wings, but another pair of arms. Soldiers, neon coloured, mandibles plenty and poking out of the mouth forever torn into growls. Queens, fully black and shiny, the perfect Permawing.

The Permawing Queen, Queen Mongolia, hides. Her jaws lay waiting, ready to snap down on a leg at any moment. Her jaws lay everywhere. Watch where you step.


	2. The Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: gore, blood, vauge insect-like terms

Queen Slush hisses as she slinks into her throne, bright red eyes, that of an albino, casting across the younger, more dangerous, queens. Her talons scrape the ice, flecks dropping and melting in the blood that pools around her torn wings and ragged skin. “What is it that you want?” She rasps out, tongue heavy from non-use.

Queen Siren laughs, dragging her body up from the water, wings scrabbling to get a hold. Her teeth are golden, shiny, like the treasure she drapes over her underwater palace. She swings her broad, seal-like head towards the others, a grin grimly sketched onto her face. “We want you, Slush.” Her words echo in the wide room.

We want you. You. YoU– Y O U

The Sleetwing Queen howls, slamming her head into the ground, horns splintering, fragments driving into the ice. The enchanter was there, hiding in her plain sight. The Animus. Queen Siren.

Queen Mongolia advances, soldiers flitting around her, mandibles dripping, waiting. Didn’t she say her jaws were always waiting? Her own mandibles (multi-limbed, tips split, venom slick) were out, stretched wide, ripping scales from pale purple skin, soaking with violet blood.

Queen Siren laughs. She was always laughing. Never stops laughing. Psychedelic patterns flash across her scales, never reaching her claws. “Don’t stop, Mongolia! We will tear this apart one tribe at a time!“

The Permawing smiles, sickeningly sweet, the blood like cobwebs spread between her and her subjects. Siren leans in and kisses the other Queen, blood seeping in rivers between her scales.

Queen Slush is just that at this point- visceral slush. Her subjects fled as soon as Queen Siren dragged herself from the sea.

Queen Mongolia is fed, as are her hives of soldiers. They work, splitting bone from meat.

Queen Siren and hers are watching in morbid glee. Polarwings were never dangerous, the Sleetwings said.

Queen Owl watches, as she always does. Queen Owl listens, as she always does. Queen Owl waits, as she always does. Queen Owl is planning, like she always does. Queen Owl is stalking, like she always does.

A thin knife lodges itself between Queen Siren’s pulsing gills.

A thin knife lodges itself between Queen Mongolia’s keratin plates.

Queen Owl has won, as she always has. Queen Owl assassinates, as she always has. Queen Owl is silent, as she always is.

Queen Owl resets the timeline.

As she has.

As she should.

The world is no longer cold. The world is no longer this particular future.

Queen Owl still exists. She has to. There are other futures.

Queen Owl raises a pen. Queen Owl presses ink to paper.

She sheds her skin.


End file.
